Thank you Tzara. I hope I begin to like his poems more or see what in them merits such admiration. I am immediately put off by the capitalization of first words in each line and by the talkiness, phrasiness, expectedness of the first poem I read. I will read on and hope to discover some gold, somewhere.

Thank you Tzara. I hope I begin to like his poems more or see what in them merits such admiration. I am immediately put off by the capitalization of first words in each line and by the talkiness, phrasiness, expectedness of the first poem I read. I will read on and hope to discover some gold, somewhere.

Pat C. used to talk about how line caps were passé in poetry. I think he was probably right--they are distracting--but there are still quite a number of poets who use them. At least occasionally. Me included.

I rather liked the poems poets.org posted for Mr. Ferry. Yeah, very talky, almost like a story broken into lines, but I liked them.

And, no, you don't have to.

We can disagree, of course. Art is not a clear yes/no dichotomy.

__________________There is never a question of what to paint but only how to paint.
The how of painting has always been the image's end-product.
—Robert Ryman

You wanna fight? come fight me
I'll hit ya with the "wa-psh-psh-psh", see, see
I get dirty after dark, I'll treat you like Speilberg
You get your ass kicked in the park
You don't beleive me, the proof is in the pudding
Little boy in the hood, way before Cuba Gooding
I flip scrpits with the mad pa-style, freeze
Music please
I dribble rhymes like Basketball-ems
People call me E.T.,
(what's that Shaq man?)
Extra-Tallems
You better than Shaq-tack, fool, shut up liar
I lean on the statue of liberty when I get tired
Than I'll punch you in the stomach, I don't give a heck
(hey yo, why you bug a hooker like that?)
Yo, she breated on my neck
People walk around like yall, they got charred
But I'm big like Gorilla, 6-7, large
I kick rhymes like moduck-kwong you
I smoke-smoke the mic-mic
I Chech and Chong you
You don't like Shaq, frankly I don't give a damn
I know I got skills man, I know I got skills man

etc....

(Sorry, couldn't let you two have all the fun)

__________________“I am at the moment writing a lengthy indictment against our century. When my brain begins to reel from my literary labors, I make an occasional cheese dip.”
― John Kennedy Toole, A Confederacy of Dunces

That's prolly Danny Ferry, not David Ferry you're thinking of, Mr. e. Small forward (only in that other NBA is 6'10" considered "small") out of Duke. Don't know if he writes poetry or not. I'm guessing not:

my 35
up in the rafters
at Cameron

is nice but
I'd rather have
Laettner's ring(s)

though
I do have
an NBA

he dont

Yeah. Probably not.

__________________There is never a question of what to paint but only how to paint.
The how of painting has always been the image's end-product.
—Robert Ryman

That's prolly Danny Ferry, not David Ferry you're thinking of, Mr. e. Small forward (only in that other NBA is 6'10" considered "small") out of Duke. Don't know if he writes poetry or not. I'm guessing not:

my 35
up in the rafters
at Cameron

is nice but
I'd rather have
Laettner's ring(s)

though
I do have
an NBA

he dont

Yeah. Probably not.

Ahh Danny Ferrry. You are absolutely right. Sheesh, I took an axe to that one.

I always thought starting every line with a cap meant the writer was using MS-Word and never turned off auto correct. I don't think it lends anything to the reading.

Poets seem to agree on what is bad poetry, but there is never anything close to consensus on good poetry. I always think of Slartibartfast and his fjords. He designs fjords because he likes them. One day fjords become trendy and when he wins an award, it seems like a random thing. The fjords were no better or worse than before, but now, just noticed.

When I read the two pieces listed on the poets.org page, I thought Ferry and I could trade a few pages from our notebooks and probably no one would notice the difference, except for the caps, and maybe not even then.

Originally posted by LostBaby
My beloved is perfect. He is strong, smart, well read, can & will do anything, tender, and totally adores me. The only thing that could make him better is if he was freak'n wealthy beyond words.

On the floor of a small room near the city wall, they found the source of the many fragments of wisdom this civilization had left the world.
bronzeageworks.blog spot.com